Doctor Girlfriend
by Serenitychan13
Summary: Even super genius child prodigy BAU profilers are not immune to the creeping crud. When Spencer is the last of the team to get sick, it's up to his girlfriend Lorraine to play Doctor Girlfriend... Rated for a couple moments language.
1. Something Snotty This Way Comes

**Disclaimer: **_**I keep telling you lot that I don't own anything! Really! I'm just a damn college student! Okay, well, I own Lorraine, but you can use her if you ask me. Ask nicely.**_

Ch. 1 – Something Snotty This Way Comes

"WHACHOO!" the noise exploded down the corridor of the BAU's office space, getting closer with each step. "Uwaa… ACHOO!"

Autumn had come, it saw, and it turned into winter. Cold and flu season struck the Alexandria school systems. Everyone had seen Hotch coughing guiltily into his handkerchief last week when Jack had it. The next week, Morgan and Garcia spent five days straight hacking up lungs. Suspiciously enough, Kevin had a nasty cough coinciding. Rossi sniffled his way through the three days after that, grumpier than usual and swearing in Italian. Prentiss sat at the far end of the table and wouldn't touch anything anyone handed her. Two days ago, JJ turned up with a red nose. Everyone had watched her eyes turn glassy and red, heard her coughing her chest inside out, and overdosed on hand sanitizer.

"Ergh… Whuh… WHACHOO!" exploded JJ for the umpteen-billionth time. "Ugh… Spencer? Can you hand me my purse? Henry's school just called me to come pick him up."

Spencer Reid looked up from his pencil-and-paper notes and nodded, reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief. This, he wrapped around the strap of JJ's purse and hefted the heavy leather bag. JJ sniffled miserably, looking as though she might fall over if the air conditioning unit blew on her too hard. Hotch nodded again, confirming that JJ could indeed go get her son. She took her purse from her almost-brother and a chesty cough escaped out of her control.

"Oh 'by got', 'Pencer," she half-gasped, half-choked, swiping at her watery eyes with her free hand and sniffling again. "I ab' so sorry…"

Reid just blinked a few times, trying very hard not to scrunch up his nose, leap from his seat and make a mad dash out of the room. He knew there was a chemical disinfectant shower _somewhere _in their building! But he settled for smiling at his almost-sister and wishing her and his godson a speedy recovery. Shit, he thought – one of these days, he swore he would wind up on one of the BAU's watch lists because of the way his smile made him look unhinged. Any day now, the rest of them would notice. Thankfully, they only had two more hours to get through before Hotch turned them loose. Then he could retreat to his shower and scrub himself until he was satisfactorily clean.

And then it happened. Spencer was on his way out of the men's room when he caught a look at himself in the mirror. Normally, he wouldn't have given his reflection a second thought, but the red tinge round his nostrils gave it away. He swore under his breath and nearly kicked the door in frustration. Well, he supposed he should have counted on the inevitable. With two members of the team having grade-school-age children, combined with their high-stress job… Yes, it had to be unavoidable that the entire team, including the resident super-genius, would wind up down with the local creeping crud. Flu shots had been administered, but didn't cover upper respiratory snafus.

Whilst on his way home, Spencer started to sniffle. He growled irritably and swiped repeatedly at his nose with his handkerchief. People averted their gazes from him on the Metro as he stared daggers at the world. Several glared at him in disgust, watching him snuffle in the white cotton. He very much wanted to yell something rude, but refrained. Not nearly soon enough, the doors opened at his stop and he jostled his way off with several dozen others. As he worked his way out of the Metro station, he let out his first cough.

"Son of a bitch…" he grumbled, holding a second handkerchief over his face as he strode irritably down the street to his building. "Never felt the sentiment in 'Thank God It's Friday' before now…"

Several people got out of the way of the tall, skinny man stomping down the street in all kinds of a bad mood. He clunked in the front door of his building, unintentionally glaring at everyone. The fellow at the front desk snapped his newspaper and just glared on back. That skinny guy just sort of screamed 'weirdo' in his book, worked for the government or something… Spencer neither noticed nor cared as he punched the elevator button. It stopped at the third floor instead, and a gentleman looked up, realized the elevator was going down, and returned to his business. Dr. Reid felt the intense desire to kick the man for getting between him and his bed.

The elevator dinged innocently at the eighth floor, and Spencer shifted his satchel and proceeded to barge down the hall. He grumbled and swore under his breath as it took three tries to get his key in the doorknob. The infernal thing required a further thirty seconds of rattling before it twisted open. Sniffling wasn't cutting it anymore – his whole head felt full of gunk. It hurt to bend forward and set his satchel on the floor.

Repeated sniffles turned into a wad of something he would rather not think about in the back of his throat. His ribs started trying to apparently invert themselves, intercostal muscles having a fit. Spencer dashed to his kitchen, feeling the nasty sensation of imminent bodily explosion. Sure enough, the second he reached the sink, his rib cage seized. He doubled over coughing and that gob of milky green yuck landed with a wet _splat _on the brushed nickel. Automatically, his gag reflex hit him with the wave of disgust and he had to swallow hard and leave the kitchen on wobbly knees. Even with his memory, he couldn't recall a cold setting on him so fast and so hard.

No sense dwelling on it, though, the genius thought. He chucked his sweater vest on the couch and continued shedding clothing through his apartment. The crisp blue dress shirt landed in a sad crumple beside the end table. Following that, he dropped his white T-shirt in the hallway, and then his belt. His khakis hit the floor of his bedroom. Finally, Spencer Reid himself let gravity take over and he plopped onto his bed in socks and Mickey Mouse boxer shorts.

His itchy, watery eyes closed and he coughed hard, trying to snort all the ick back into his head. It didn't work very well. He grabbed a blanket – the Star Wars Polarfleece one Garcia gave him for Christmas – and wrapped up. Somewhat warmer, he turned over again. His head hurt like hell. In few minutes, he fell asleep, still sniffling hard and mostly breathing through his mouth.


	2. The Girlfriend Treatment

**Disclaimer: **_**I do not own anything but the remnants of my very own nasty cold. Code: Milky Green is never a good place to be at. None of anything Criminal Minds-related is mine. Lorraine is – if you would like to use her in your own writing, please ask me. Ask me nicely.**_

Ch. 2 – The Girlfriend Treatment

A couple hours later, he felt like throwing that stupid little ringing thing out of the window… Oh, wait… That's right, he thought – cell phone, need that… He flung out a long arm, grabbed his alarm clock instead, and rolled his eyes. The ringing continued, annoyingly reminding him that he had left the phone in his pants. His nose alone felt like it weighed five pounds as he dragged himself out of bed. Grumbling, he crossed the room and picked up the fallen trousers, fishing through pockets. His fingers closed on the offending cellular apparatus and he flipped it open, not checking on who it might be.

"Dr. Spencer Reid speaking," he growled into the phone, his throat thick with the same drainage that had put in the spectacular appearance in his sink.

"Spencer?" asked a very concerned female voice.

Oh shit, thought Spencer – he and Lorraine were supposed to go… do… something tonight, weren't they? It seemed the drainage had somehow seeped into his brain and made coherent thought a bit of an issue. He coughed hard, trying to do so away from the phone, and attempted to answer.

"Spencer, oh my God, you sound awful!" Lorraine exclaimed on the other end of the phone, causing Spencer himself to wince. "Have you taken anything for that?"

Yawning widely, Spencer gave it a moment's thought.

"'do…" he croaked. "Dod't keep 'dat stuff 'bost of the tibe'…"

It took Lorraine a second or two to translate that into "No, don't keep that stuff most of the time." She shook her head at the cell phone in her hand. If she remembered right, there were probably a few things at her apartment. For a second or two, she just listened to Spencer sneeze on the other end. Following this, he swore, and then apologized, apparently remembering the phone.

"It's okay," she assured him. "I've got some stuff for colds, if you'd like me to bring that by."

"'Do, 'dat's okay," Spencer tried to say, not wanting to trouble her. "I'b 'vine."

This time, Lorraine rolled her eyes.

"You are most certainly not fine," she insisted, getting over one lane so she could turn around. "I'm going to drop by my apartment, pick up those things, and I'll be over there in just a few minutes."

Spencer found himself unable to argue – it required entirely too much energy.

"Uh… okay," he found himself saying as his eyelids demanded to slam shut again.

"Why don't you go on back to sleep and I'll call back when I'm close," she directed him more than asked. "I'll see you in a little bit."

Spencer had barely thanked her and mumbled something like a goodbye when the phone slipped from his hand. He planted his face firmly back in his pillow and yanked another couple of blankets over his head. Turning over, he curled up, trying again to breathe through his nose. It still didn't work for a minute, so, still snuffling miserably, he fell into a fitful sleep with his mouth open.

Lorraine exited the parking deck for residents and visitors to Spencer's building, turned the corner, and nudged the automatic doors. She stopped to get her parking validated by the guy behind the counter. He looked at her strangely for a moment but didn't say anything unusual, just bid her a good evening. So, after thanking him, Lorraine crossed the lobby and pushed the elevator button. Spencer was on the eighth floor, right? She thought her memory served her right, so she hit the eighth button.

When the elevator dinged and opened, she stepped off and went round to Spencer's door. She had said she would call when she was closer, but it had just slipped her mind until now. Reaching into her large black leather purse, she found her cell phone and clicked on Spencer's number. The other end rang until she thought it was going to go to voicemail, but he picked up.

"Lorraine?" groaned Spencer's snot-clogged voice on the other end of the phone. "Are you close?"

"Yes," she told him. "I'm sorry I didn't call a little earlier, but I'm actually on your hallway right now. Got stuff for you!"

She heard shuffling through the phone, plus a few muttered swear words. Then there came a crash. A door opened about five yards down from where she stood and a rumpled head of sandy brown hair stuck out. Her pink Converses took her that way, finding the tall, skinny, miserable form of Spencer Reid. He had wrapped himself in a blanket and stood there leaning on the door. She looked him up and down. His eyes were glassy and his face pale except for the chapped, tomato-colored nose and purple bags under his eyes. He looked worse than he had sounded over the phone!

"Okay, if you hadn't had to open the door, I would be yelling at you about what the hell you were doing out of bed," she told him by way of greeting. For some reason, Spencer smiled soggily at this. Lorraine shook her head. "All right, turn it around – back to bed with you. Or would you like to post up on the couch?"

Spencer sniffled, inhaling approximately a gallon of the snot in his head and swallowing uncomfortably. Lorraine, however, didn't flinch, setting a hand on his shoulder and physically turning him around. He sort of made the effort to steer over towards the couch. Lorraine took hold of his arm through the blanket and helped him sit down – his equilibrium seemed to have taken a sabbatical. The profiling super-genius sank onto the couch like a rock. Lorraine sat down beside him, causing him to draw back with the blanket over his face.

"Lorraine, dod't!" he tried to warn her. "I dod't wa't you 'do ged' 'zick 'doo."

That red braid whipped round as she shook her head at him, not allowing him to swat her hand away from his forehead.

"Spencer, stop it," she commanded, feeling how frighteningly hot his face had become. "You're sick. So what? Everybody gets sick. I'm pretty sure I had this two weeks ago – all the kids have it right now."

The great big brown eyes, now shiny and red-tinged, blinked up at her.

"Don't you look at me in that tone of voice," ordered Lorraine, plunging her hand into her purse and finding the bottle of orange cough syrup. "Where do you keep your silverware? You need a couple teaspoons of this."

Spencer tried to pout at his… girlfriend? It was a bit odd to think in those terms still – they had seen each other at least biweekly since the aquarium… But he ended up turning his head and coughing hard into his blanket. Lorraine got up and went to rifle through the kitchen. Normally, he would not be okay _at all _with someone going through his things, even just kitchen drawers. However, saying no to a redhead, he had learned, was not much of an option. He could see Lorraine's red braid bouncing round as she went through things. Finally, she retrieved a teaspoon and strode out of the kitchen.

"This stuff will at least let you breathe a little easier," she told him, sitting down beside him and handing him the bottle and the spoon. "It might make you a little loopy, though. Would you like me to plug in a movie?"

Nodding blearily, Spencer fought for a moment with the top of the bottle and nearly dropped the spoon. However, he stared balefully at Lorraine when she attempted to fix it for him, so she got up to sift through movies. She reminded him to take two as she sat on the floor cross-legged and looked. Her hand passed over horror movies and documentary collections. Then a black-and-white special-edition cover caught her eye. Reaching out, she came back with Tim Burton's _The Nightmare Before Christmas_. Lorraine rolled onto her back on the carpet.

"How's this?" she asked Spencer, dangling the DVD case from one hand. "Disney's amazing!"

The sick-bedded super-genius couldn't help but find Lorraine's automatic comfort in his familiar surroundings adorable. Even in his current state, he just had to appreciate her pink long-sleeved T-shirt. He remembered reading somewhere – probably in one of his mother's magazines, something about that. He liked that she didn't care about the rule about redheads wearing pink… and the shirt fit her very well. It rode up with her lying on the floor, showing just about an inch of her skin. As she usually did, Lorraine caught him looking and stuck her tongue out at him, rolling onto her stomach and still holding out the case.

"Going once… Going twice?" she offered, shaking the case at him for emphasis. "And away we go!"

Lorraine pushed herself up off the floor and then plopped back down in front of the television set. She perched on the balls of her feet like a gargoyle, frowning at the apparatus in front of her, having never been very tech-savvy. Okay, power buttons were usually red, right? There! That button the television – she pushed that with one finger and the television clicked on. Success! Now, how did one switch over to the DVD function? She found the power button for that easily enough, and the button to open the slot.

"Will it just start up if I put the DVD in?" she asked, bending backwards and looking at Spencer upside-down. "I know some of them do that…"

Whatever Spencer may have tried to answer with got lost in a fit of sneezing, so he just pointed at the DVD player and covered his nose with his elbow. Lorraine turned back to the evil heap of technology. Well, here goes nothing, she thought, setting the DVD in the slot and nudging it closed. After a moment of staring at the device, it started to play. Once the several dozen Disney commercials played, the movie menu came up. Now where in hell did that remote go? It didn't seem to be anywhere close to the television, where it would actually make sense to be.

"Hey, Spencer, where's the remote?" she asked him over-backwards again, that braid of hers dragging on the carpet. He just blinked at her with the bottle of liquid Tylenol still in his hand. "… I think you may be sitting on it."

The wadded-up-blanket-monster shifted, looked about, and shrugged rather pitifully. In a move of surprisingly agility, Lorraine did a backward roll and landed upright, sitting on her knees. From there, she pushed up to her feet and strode over to root through the couch. Spencer didn't bother getting out of the way, since he had finally found a sitting position that didn't suck. And, well, he didn't mind an attractive redhead noodling about on his couch. Lorraine lifted one corner of the blanket and he snatched his foot back from the cold.

"I still can't find the remote and that stupid menu music is driving me all kinds of nuts," she informed him, continuing to sift through cushions. "Have you seen it?"

Spencer reached round under the blanket and felt what he thought might be the remote. He got his hand around the thing – it was definitely _a _remote, but he couldn't tell whether or not it was the one for the DVD player. Lorraine kept fishing around and wound up finding his other arm. She blushed and smiled at him, giving him what would have been a quick hug. Spencer, on the other hand, held her close for a second.

"Tha'ks for bei'g here, Lorraine," he whispered, sniffling and kissing the top of her head. "I 'bead id'."

And he handed her the remote. Lorraine smiled and leaned her head on Spencer's blanket-covered shoulder as she pressed 'play.' The opening music to 'This Is Halloween' played through the living room. Spencer couldn't help smiling too – the Tylenol loopy feeling probably helped a little. He only regretted being unable to sing along.


	3. Stay With Me

_**Disclaimer: I finally don't have a head cold. Today, I'm pretty sure I have food poisoning. What I don't own is Criminal Minds. What I do own is Lorraine. Want to use her? Ask me nicely.**_

Ch. 3 – Stay With Me

With the last of the end-credits music petering off, Lorraine picked her head up off Spencer's shoulder and looked out the window. It had gotten totally dark outside and she needed to go home and do something with Hawkeye. She craned her head round and watched Spencer for just a second. His head had lolled onto his shoulder and his mouth hung open. It took a bit of work to worm her way out from under his arm. His blanket fell down from that same shoulder and she fixed it back.

Was he awake? Gently, she brushed a lock of his sandy brown hair off his forehead and leaned over to kiss his cheek… carefully. He scrunched his chapped red nose at the touch, but he smiled. Lorraine got up to shut the DVD player off. The music stopped and she turned the television off as well, leaving the room dark except for the computer screen. Spencer's arm reached for the empty space where she had been, and then curled in close to his chest. Seeing this, Lorraine's heart felt warm inside.

Spencer, for his part, felt like gravity had increased on his body by tenfold, leaving his movements slow and jerky. He had felt Lorraine get up, but couldn't quite lift his head at the moment. With it having lolled over like that about halfway through "Something's Up With Jack," his neck cricked up majorly. So he just let out a pained little noise and felt quite sorry for himself. The last time he had been this sick must have been when he was about twelve.

"Spencer, you okay?" Lorraine's soft voice asked him.

Brown eyes shone up at her and he looked mildly disoriented for a minute.

"Here, let's get you back to bed," she encouraged him, taking hold of the arm he'd had wrapped around her. "I really didn't think this through – your back and neck must be killing you."

Spencer helped in hoisting himself up off the couch.

"'sokay," he mumbled, letting Lorraine led him down the short hallway to his bedroom.

Lorraine helped Spencer into bed, wondering why he insisted so on keeping the blanket wrapped tightly round him. Smiling, she ruffled the hair that had fallen onto his forehead. He curled up into a miserable ball that seemed to be made entirely of knees and elbows, but he smiled back at her. Then he pulled the blanket over his head. Reaching into her pocket, Lorraine took a quick look at her cell phone. It was after eight – Hawkeye needed his fourth walk of the day. She leaned over to wrap her arms around the Spencer-ball.

"I need to go see about Hawkeye," she told him through the blanket. "But you call me if you need anything, okay?"

Lorraine was about halfway out the bedroom door when the ball of blankets made a grumpy sound.

"Erm?" it asked plaintively, shifting about in the bed. "Lorraine?"

Smiling wryly, the speech therapist went back and bent over the edge of the bed. The lump of genius coughed and shook. Electric purple fingernails pinched the corner of the blanket, carefully pulling it back. Fever-bright brown eyes blinked up at her. Lorraine tilted her head back at him, bringing his attention to the silver liner on her pretty eyes. Spencer sniffled and swallowed hard, clearing his throat into the blanket to make sure he didn't just cough at his girlfriend. He took a deep breath, held it for a second, and hoped he didn't screw up.

"… Stay with me?" he asked, his voice coming out a lot smaller, certainly, than he had intended.

When Lorraine drew back, Spencer felt like all of his organs had just all of a sudden turned into lead chunks. He withdrew into his cocoon of blankets and curled into an even smaller ball than he had originally known possible. He swore he would give anything to have one of his doctorates make him a Time Lord. Then maybe he could go back and not say something so stupid… Did that work? He thought it had, since time seemed to stand still for a full minute.

Then he felt a hand touch his back through the blankets.

"Give me a minute," Lorraine's slightly-muffled voice told him. "I need to call somebody to see about Hawkeye and Everett."

Spencer shivered involuntarily at both a bodily chill and the mention of his two furry nemeses. Last time he had been over at Lorraine's apartment, the large drooling one had forced him off the couch with its back end. The small-by-comparison-only fluffy one had greeted him with a hiss and a round of gas. The genius's skinny body shivered again when Lorraine's hand pulled away. He heard his bedroom door close, relaxing as he heard Lorraine through the door. After a minute or two, the door opened and closed again, sock-feet padding across the floor to his bed.

"Spencer, d'you have something I could sleep in?" that voice asked again – he still hadn't popped his head out from the blankets. She sounded adorable, her tone giving away her blushing face in the dark. "Jeans aren't great for that…"

The genius froze under his blankets, curling his toes and internally doing a _happy dance _for the first time in his life.

"Ub'… 'dere's 'D-shir's id' the clos't," he offered, a lot more timidly than he wanted that to sound. "'Dey're clead'…"

He was glad not to have stuck his head out from the blankets as he heard Lorraine cross the room. Next, he heard her rumbling about in the closet and a laugh sounded in that direction. Oh hell… One of these days, he swore he would devise a suitable counter-prank for the "Morgan collection." That man had to learn his lesson. A louder-than-necessary cough he hoped she didn't notice covered the sound of her pink long-sleeved T-shirt landing on his floor. The softer _swish _that followed caused his cheeks to burn. If he didn't know better, he would think his face might actually be _glowing. _He planted his face in his pillow at the sound of her belt and jeans hitting the carpet.

The sock-feet left the vicinity of his closet and Spencer could hear Lorraine getting closer. All of a sudden, the resident super-genius star profiler of the BAU felt the need to go hide under his bathroom sink. Yes, he did, in fact, fit under there – he checked. Lorraine's slight weight barely caused the edge of his mattress sink down at all. She drew her knees up and slid her legs under the closest blanket. Spencer felt his breath catch in his throat for reasons unrelated to his illness. Unfortunately, his illness took that as an invitation, causing him to cough so hard he smacked his forehead on his curled-up knee.

"Ergh…" he grunted.

Lorraine patted the blanket at random, finding his shoulder after a few tries, and her arm wound up draped round him. Without thinking much, Spencer let himself sort of snuggle back against her, glad she couldn't see his goofy smile. He took a deep breath to keep from coughing. Before he could actually consider what he was doing and stop himself, he turned over. Big hazel-green eyes blinked back at him.

"You warm enough?" Lorraine asked, smiling sweetly at him.

Spencer sniffled at her, but smiled nonetheless, his own eyes still shining with fever.

"I'b runni'g a fever of abb- … app- … about… a hu'dred degrees," he started to ramble and caught himself, blushing and feeling his face heat up more. "… bud' yes, I'b very cob'for'ble here. With you…"

He inhaled another disturbing amount of his own snot. Lorraine didn't seem to mind, and she translated all right. She pushed a few sweaty tendrils of hair off his face. Spencer wanted very much to lean in for a kiss at the moment, but refrained. At the moment, he settled for watching Lorraine snuggle happily into his pillow. Those eyes closed like a happy cat's, but then she opened them again. It didn't take being a super-genius profiler to tell she couldn't be happier at present. Spencer decided to take another chance.

Struggling a little to free himself from the tangle of blankets, the genius let one skinny hand inch over to Lorraine's. To his mild surprise, she took it in hers before he could move any further. Their eyes met again, and she surprised him once more with the surprise that matched his in her gaze. She looked no less happy, her teeth catching her lower lip as she smiled.

"Tha'k you for s'daying…" Spencer tried not to croak, speaking through a thick wad of _gross _in his throat.

Lorraine squeezed his hand and made a soft, happy sound, her eyes falling half-closed. Wriggling her hips, she scooted a little closer to him. In the back of her mind, she had already resigned herself to getting his crud. But somehow, she didn't mind so much… She let him pull her hand back, guiding her to wrap that same arm around him.

"It's okay," she whispered, nestling into the pillow again.

Spencer had to make his eyes stay open at this point, the Tylenol really doing a number on his ability to remain awake or something like it. He had to, though… It wasn't terribly often that this happened to him. Never before had he ever been able to actually watch a beautiful woman fall asleep in his bed. She let go of him for just a moment, drawing a curious pout. But her smile returned and she started taking her hair out of its braid. Watching the red locks fall onto the sheets and pillowcase did funny things to the genius's though processes. Picking her head up just a bit, she flipped all that length out over the pillow.

"I don't like sleeping on my hair," she explained in response to his curious look. "It gets really tangled."

This time, Spencer just smiled and nodded blithely, only processing things at the minimum levels of accuracy or efficiency. He reached out and wrapped one long, lanky arm round Lorraine's waist. It always hit him when they wound up in close proximity how very small she was, even compared to him. Lorraine paused, going totally still in his arms as if considering something. The profiler had noticed long ago that he truly enjoyed watching her expressions. After that moment of thought, her arm returned to its place round him. She settled in close to him and her eyes closed, smiling happily. Spencer couldn't keep his eyes open much longer. Blinking blearily, he held her close and shifted to get as comfortable as he could.

"Good 'dight, Lorraine," he whispered thickly.

He could _hear_ her smiling somehow.

"Night, Spencer…" she whispered back.


End file.
